


Perennial

by EchoShimmer



Series: Wumptober 2020 [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: "Mild" Self-Harming Behaviors, (Via Tim Refusing to Shift Into His Dragon Form for a Bit), Accidental Child Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dehumanization, Dragon Tim Drake, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, King Bruce Wayne, Magic, Prince Jason Todd, Starvation, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Whumptober 2020, caged, field medicine, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoShimmer/pseuds/EchoShimmer
Summary: King Bruce Wayne deals with the aftermath of the discovery of a severe breach of the Magical Creatures Protection Act, and finds himself caring for another child.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Wumptober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948924
Comments: 38
Kudos: 532
Collections: Works good enough I will definitely reread





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check the tags if you didn't already, I felt very mean writing this one but... for the angst. Sorry Timmy you'll get lots of love in the second chapter.
> 
> Ok so! A couple worldbuilding notes for this one in regards to the magic system in this 'verse, because I apparently couldn't stop myself and so there's not any confusion. Feel free to skip my rambling here if it's too long lol.
> 
> -Mages are humans with an internal magic connection and use their abilities by speaking short phrases in the ancient language. The best kind of magic for fighting since it works quickly, but is a bit more limited unless you want to start trying to spout off full sentences mid battle
> 
> -Wizards are humans who also have a connection to magic, and do so by enchanting objects via runes combined with more complex ancient language chants. It takes longer to learn, and must be done in advance compared to Mages, but has a much wider application because of that and is longer lasting.
> 
> -Witches (gender neutral!) are humans who use herbs and (occasionally) components gifted/taken from magical Creatures to do magic, almost always with an emphasis towards augmentation or healing of fellow humans
> 
> -Magical Creatures have an innate, usually elemental-based, connection to magic that is different than Mages, and doesn't require speaking. For examples, Dragons with their fire and shifting abilities.
> 
> So far I have: Bruce and Dick both have a fair bit of knowledge into all of the magic types but don't practice them, though Bruce is the current holder of the gods-blessed Sword of Justice (passed between Gotham's rulers) and Dick has a distant fae ancestor that gives him a small connection to the air element. Jason is a Mage-in-training, and he also favors ranged weapons in his training in that regard. Alfred is a Witch and Bruce's Advisor/caretaker. Barbara is a Wizard and a researcher of Magical Creatures. Tim is a Dragon. Everyone else in the fam is currently undecided.

King Bruce of House Wayne, the great Batman himself, wasn’t typically summoned in response to deaths in one of the Noble Houses of the small kingdom of Gotham, but in the case of the Drake’s nothing about the situation was typical. He was always notified, of course, but usually the details of burial and inheritance were left up to the other members of the deceased’s House, with occasional help from the crown when deemed necessary. 

Jack and Janet Drake had been merchants, often traveling between cities to establish trade deals and check in on their various ventures firsthand. The young couple, the last of the Drake line, valued their freedom, and it was a shock to all of Gotham when their wagon was discovered destroyed on the outskirts of the kingdom. The Drakes were left slain, leaving behind a slew of paperwork and an empty estate. 

It should have been as easy as sorting through the business details to hand off to the Drake’s trusted managers and hold the land and estate as a gift to the next rising family that was deemed worthy. However, once Bruce and his closest advisor and adoptive father Alfred Pennyworth started to actually look through the details, oddities started to pop up. There were many cases where the Drakes had apparently acquired and sold off materials that should have been quite rare. Phoenix shells, dragon scales, elf hair, the like.

And it was just like that, with a bit of deeper investigation via the assistance of Prince Dick and General Gordon, that the kingdom of Gotham unearthed one of the greatest breeches of the Allied Kingdoms’  _ Magical and Intelligent Creatures’ Protection Act _ in a generation.

King Bruce and a small contingent of the Honor Guard rode up to the Drake estate a week later with trepidation, hesitant about what they might find hidden within the sprawling Manor. Prince Jason had chosen to tag along with his father, supposedly due to curiosity and boredom. Bruce suspected it was actually due to his second son’s history with magical Creatures driving him to want to be involved, but he didn’t push the teen. It was good for him to start getting involved in current happenings now that he was older and more settled into the family.

Drake Manor was unsurprisingly empty of both people and belongings on arrival, evidence that the previous owners rarely spent time there. The first floor rooms were searched and cleared easily. The second story led to the discovery of a couple items that Bruce suspected were enchanted and were appropriately stored for transport and analysis. It wasn’t until one of the Honor Guard’s mages managed to track down a hidden door that things went properly sideways.

The group all gathered to examine the unrecorded basement, the mages of the group summoning floating lights to properly reveal what they were dealing with. The party was met by dozens of unlabeled wooden crates, stacked two high along all the walls and in careful lines across the center of the large, stone-lined room. The two royals and six Honor Guards all huddled around the closest crate to the door, popping the top open to reveal bags holding dimly glowing pixie dust. The next crate was much the same. Jackpot.

The Guards all scatter through the room, popping open and recording the contents of the many crates before working in pairs to transport them out of the Manor and into the waiting wagons. It would all have to be brought back to the city to be properly analyzed and the magic experts like Barbara Gordon could determine the best course of action. 

Bruce grimly scanned over the crates, mentally calculating how many Creatures would have to be abused and hurt to amass restricted items to this extent. His heart hurt just thinking about it, and he found himself drifting thoughtlessly through the stacks, lost in thought. Jason trailed behind him like a shadow, seeming to be equally distant. Bruce was going to have to make sure he talked to the boy later, to ensure that he was handling all of this okay. As good as Jason was at acting unaffected, he was deeply empathetic.

It was dark in the back of the room, the glow of the summoned lights didn’t reach this far. That was the reason that Bruce didn’t notice the oddity sitting between the wooden crates. A barred cage, metal etched in magic ruins that Bruce couldn’t identify from this distance but gave him that supernatural chill down his spine all the same. Jason’s eyes must have settled on the unexpected find moments after his father, as he was quickly muttering his own floating light spell. The result was much dimmer and flickering compared to the Guards’, but it was enough to reveal the rather small cage in full. And, even more importantly, the light revealed the even smaller form of the small body huddled in the center.

Bruce doesn’t think he ever moved so quickly in his  _ life _ . Jason let out a quiet, choked gasp as he collapsed to his knees beside his father, less than a second behind.

For one heartstopping moment, Bruce honestly feared that the small, humanoid figure was dead. It’s- his, Bruce quickly decided- bare skin was sickly pale and shrunken dangerously into the small frame, bones sticking out prominently. It wasn’t until the boy flinched slightly, hands tugging through long, slightly greasy dark hair as the child curled in on himself against the sudden light and movement, that Bruce’s mind relaxed from that worst case scenario and was able to assess the other details. 

The iron cage itself, about the size for a large dog really, was indeed covered in magic binding ruins that Bruce’s experience told him were used for containment and restraining of magical Creatures and their abilities. The boy likely wasn’t as human as his current appearance implied, then. Any non-human who touched the magic-imbued iron would likely be burnt by the strength of the runework, and the evidence of that effect was scattered over the boy’s tightly drawn limbs. The bottom of the cage was fitted by a thin wooden panel to distance the captive from the iron there, a tiny concession of mercy that did absolutely nothing to ease Bruce’s aching chest. The fact that one of the far corners was distinctly dirtier than the rest was just further evidence of how long the child had been held captive.

Oh, gods. The Drakes had been dead for a whole  _ week _ , and hadn’t been back to the estate in who knows how long before that. The small containers that may have once held food or water were long emptied. It was a miracle that this child was alive, a human child certainly wouldn’t have been. Gods, he looked so small, certainly years younger than Jason’s fourteen, at least in comparison. How could someone  _ do _ this?

As Bruce tried to figure out how to push his brain into doing anything more than scream into the oblivion over the cruelty they had stumbled upon, the tiny boy shifted slightly again, this time accompanied by a near-silent scrape. The sound pulled Bruce’s eyes away from the skinny, burnt shoulders and to the small ankle encased in a single, rune-marked shackle. 

That sight was enough to snap Bruce from his floating shock. He blinked hard to clear his slightly hazy eyes before focusing his vision towards the lock holding the front of the cage closed. Like everything else it was warded to withstand anything a Creature could do to it, but there was nothing Bruce could see that would resist another enchanted item. 

Satisfied with the deduction, Bruce nudged the still-shocked Jason back slightly and drew his sword without embellishment, bringing the blade down on the lock with prejudice. The runes on the blade flashed purple-blue as the two connected, but as he hoped the Sword of Justice’s ancient magic overpowered the protections on the lock, shattering the weaker wards. He quickly slipped the blade back into its sheath, and Jason’s hands joined Bruce’s by the time he moved to rip the cage door open.

Bruce’s hands fluttered uselessly over the boy’s too-thin form for a few hesitant moments, afraid to do something that would scare him or hurt him further. But he couldn’t well leave the child where he was, so he wrangled his nerves and carefully slipped his hands around the narrow chest and pulled the boy gently, carefully, out and into his lap. The child didn’t fight it, his body mostly staying limp, letting out a quiet whine of pain that cut Bruce to the heart. He held the far too light boy against his chest, trying to offer warmth through the leather armor. He seemed slightly chill to the touch. A mere moment later and Bruce was moving one hand to release his classic black cape from his shoulders to swath the slightly shivering child from the basement’s chill.

Jason watched the whole exchange silently, blue-green eyes ever so slightly distant as he did so. Bruce was about to try to say something to him, concerned by the atypical silence, when his son’s gaze moved to settle on the still-locked shackle. He blinked once at it, thinking, before twisting quickly towards the direction they came from and calling out, “Montoya! We need you!” Bruce nodded in approval at the choice, though unable to find the ability to voice it.

The young wizard appeared from the stacks of wooden crates within moments, brushing her chestplate of dirt as she approached. “Prince Jason, what do you- oh gods.” She cut off the question quickly once she processed the sight of the two royals on the ground with a small, distinctly unwell child. She closed the remaining distance quickly and dropped down on her knees next to Jason, sparing a brief, lingering glance along the runes marking the now empty cage itself.

“The shackle, can you get it off?” Jason asked quickly, motioning towards the offending metal band. Honor Guard Montoya nodded distractedly, eyes already trailing across the etched symbols. She carefully pulled the boy’s leg closer to twist the band around to see the rest, and hummed in satisfaction. 

A small, sharp looking blade was pulled from her belt, a couple marks were scratched into the shackle to alter the existing runes as she muttered unsealing rites under her breath, and suddenly the band broke in two and fell apart in her hands. The child bundled in Bruce’s lap shuttered slightly, seeming to breathe ever so slightly deeper as the effects of the magical bonds lifted, but he didn’t wake from his haze, unnaturally blue eyes still unfocused and held at half-mast.

Montoya sat back on her heels, meeting her King’s eyes seriously enough that Bruce honestly had to question her age and service experience. “Based on the runes, it’s safe to say that the Drake’s somehow stumbled into possession of a young dragon, though where they could have found him is beyond me. All the runes on the cage were about strengthening the structure, containing a non-human, fire element nullification, and shift blocking. The band on his ankle seemed to reinforce the last two. The combined effect would have been harmful to any Creature, let alone a young one. It’s just… gods.”

Bruce could commiserate. He was no expert in any magic field, never really had the knack for it, but he had studied enough of each to have an understanding in how the magical energy of the world interacted. Dragons were form-shifters and fire elementals, the exact things blocked by the runes. Cutting a Creature off from their innate magic connection was incredibly harmful in most circumstances, but this was especially true in the young, who used that energy to develop and grow. It would have become incredibly painful for the boy to be restrained from shifting after just a few days, and cutting off a fire elemental from that flow of nature energy would throw his system even further off, easily explaining the chilled skin and pale, sickly appearance without even the limited food and water factored in. How long had this boy been held captive, both here and in general? Where had the Drakes managed to find him, and why would they resort to such cruel actions?

The child appeared only around eight years old, though all things considered it was hard to tell with non-humans. Gods, he was so small and hurt. The guilt that Bruce had somehow missed this happening on his own land was threatening to eat him alive. 

It was Jason’s determined gaze, in the end, that settled Bruce some, urging him into action. There was no going back, only forward. He couldn’t change the past, but he could help this child now.

“I want to take him back to the Castle for care. Between Alfred and Barbara we should be able to treat him and ensure he recovers better than anywhere else could.” Bruce declared. Montoya agreed quickly that it was the best course. Jason looked distinctly approving. 

The two adults got to work carefully bandaging the scattered burn marks with what they had, just a temporary fix until he could be brought to the Castle and be placed under Alfred’s and Bab’s expert care. The other Honor Guard members wandered over after a time to see what the distraction was, the angry murmurs coming from them fading into the background for Bruce. At some point in the process, Jason managed to slide closer and take the smaller boy's hand into his, holding it like he could pour some of his own energy into the smaller boy.

Eventually they had done all they could here without a proper witch doctor to do a proper treatment. Bruce carefully shifted the tiny dragon-child around in his arms and pushed to his feet as smoothly as he could, Jason bouncing up beside him. Montoya stayed behind, her eyes and the other Guards’ trailing the Royals’ progress out of the basement. They emerged from the Manor shortly after, Bruce carefully shading the smallest of the trio’s eyes from the sun as they crossed the short distance from the door to their waiting carriage.

Jason clambered into the back first, accepting the small, hurt bundle from Bruce once he was settled. Bruce then went around the front, seeing to the horses and settling into position to direct them all back to the Castle in the distance. Bruce was about to have a lot of explaining to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tries to help his newly acquired child adjust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two, as promised. Look, I actually gave them all some actual comfort this time!

It took more than a full day before the boy woke up. Alfred had been forced to use his strongest charms and herbs, guided by Barbara’s research into which treatments would be most effective for a dragon. Together, the witch and wizard were able to stabilize the child, checking up on him practically every hour for the first day. Bruce, Jason, and Dick hovered through anxiously whenever they had a spare minute, everyone worried about the little dragon.

The first time the boy awoke was a brief thing, with only Alfred present to witness it. He reported afterwards that the child was clearly still weak and confused, likely scared, but had responded nonverbally to Alfred’s careful questions. He had fallen back into a slightly more restful sleep shortly thereafter. 

The next time the child awoke, a couple of hours later, Bruce and Dick were in the room with him (Jason being stuck in mage lessons at the time). They were talking quietly about the Drake situation when they had become aware of the child moving slightly on the bed, only a moment before those brilliantly blue, intelligent eyes blinked open. The child sat up quickly, pressing his back against the adjacent wall once he realized that there were people present, eyes flicking between the two men nervously.

“It’s alright, chum,” Bruce said quietly, gently. “We’re not going to hurt you. Can you understand what I’m saying?” There was a small pause, but eventually the boy nodded. Good, Alfred had assumed as much.

“That’s great, good job kiddo. We’re not going to force you to talk if you don’t want to. But is it alright if I ask you a few questions? Nothing too hard, I promise.” 

Another pause and small nod as the child curled slightly further into the corner. But Bruce thought he could just make out a slight relaxation in the kids tense shoulders when they stayed calm. A quick glance at Dick, who offered a supporting nod, and Bruce continued.

“Alright, thank you. First I think we should start with introductions. My name is Bruce. I’m the King of Gotham, and you are currently in my home, which is just about one of the safest places in the Allied Kingdoms. This is Dick, my eldest, and you might remember Jason, my other son, from when we found you. There are a few other residents of the castle as well. You may remember talking to Alfred earlier this morning, or maybe seeing our family friend Barbara as well. Do you have a name we can call you?”

This time the pause was different, less tense and more confused, but in the end the boy shook his head no.

“That's alright, we suspected as much. Can we come up with something to call you then, at least for the time being? How about... Timothy, or Tim for short, is that alright?”

Some approximation of a shrug, even more laced with confusion. Bruce had to try very hard not to show how much the child’s obvious lack of care about what was happening hurt him. That was a problem that could only be fixed over time.

“In that case, it is very nice to meet you, Tim.”

The questions that followed proceeded about the same. Disappointingly, the newly christened Tim didn’t seem to remember anything about where he was born, or know how the Drakes gained possession of him. He did know that they weren’t the ones who first captured him, though he couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) describe his previous captors. He didn’t know how long he had been there, though they could make some guesses on that one. Overall, there was no new information. Bruce was careful to smother his disappointment on that, lest he make Tim think that the negative feelings were aimed at him.

Right around the time the questions were wrapping up, Alfred appeared with food, warmly introducing himself properly to Tim and staying just long enough to ensure that the boy ate at least half of it, hardly wincing when it was clear that the boy had no clue how to use the given utensils. It wasn’t much, they would have to ease up his portion sizing over time, but Bruce was glad to see the boy eating something.

After that Dick had taken over, somehow managing to earn Tim’s trust enough to let Dick carry him out to a nearby, secluded courtyard. All of the research Barbara had dug up for them had said that natural sunlight would be vital to helping Tim’s body realign itself now that his connection to his innate fire connection wasn’t being blocked. 

Tim didn’t seem too sure about being in such an open space, and he was given a brimmed hat to block the excessive light from his eyes, but he stayed mostly calm, sticking close to Dick. Jason showed up less than half an hour later, and after a brief discussion and a careful hug that Tim hardly shrank away from, the older two boys started reading to him.

Watching from the shadowed entrance to the courtyard, Bruce smiled at the trio of boys. He had been a bit nervous about whether or not they would be able to appropriately care for a small, traumatized dragon, but his sons seemed to know exactly how to interact with him. Their movements clearly broadcasted, tones warm and excited but not overly loud. They were being careful not to smother him, despite Bruce knowing how much Dick in particular leaned towards physical forms of reassurance. 

“Something tells me that you’ve somehow once again gained another child, Master Bruce,” Alfred said teasingly, appearing from the hallway with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of water. Bruce thought about it for a moment. Tim’s lack of a history or known family ties, the many troubles that would come from raising a dragon, and how they were realistically the family in Gotham most capable of doing so. How attached everyone in the family had already become to Tim, especially the older boys, during the mere day that he had been in the Castle.

“Yes, Alfred. It seems I have.”

\---

That wasn’t to say that everything that came after was easy.

Tim’s trust came in ups and downs, some days perfectly willing to trail after them and accept the occasional physical contact, other days cringing back and keeping himself in his room. He was still deep in recovery, muscles rebuilding, stomach learning to readjust to actual food. He was progressing much faster than a human child would have, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t worry about him. 

A bit of research had confirmed that shifter-type dragon’s, a species that developed when the larger and non-shifting forefathers the drakons started interacting with humans millennia ago, aged around the same rate as humans, and a quick mage scan had confirmed that Tim was actually around 11, not the 8 he looked like. Deprivation to food and a connection to magic had done it’s damage (as Barbara had been sure to rant to Bruce about when they met to go over some more information).

Tim still wasn’t talking, though he obviously understood what everyone was saying, and occasionally made like he wanted to speak before abruptly stopping himself. Alfred had privately confirmed for Bruce that nothing was physically stopping him. Chances were that it was some sort of selective mutism, or just a fear response. Who knew how the Drake’s, or whoever had held him previously, had reacted when Tim tried to talk to them. Bruce decided to give him time and space on the matter either way, letting Tim see for himself that it was safe here.

More alarming was the fact that Tim still wasn’t shifting into his dragon form. They all  _ knew _ it had to have been far too long to be healthy, it had to be almost outright painful, but he stayed human. Any slight mention of him shifting was met with a wide, disbelieving, and noticeably terrified stare that had the boys all dropping the conversation. He was never alone for long with how worried everyone was about him, but Bruce suspected that even in those private moments Tim wasn’t shifting. He didn’t trust that he could, or that they wouldn’t hurt him if they found out.

Bruce had eventually had enough of watching Tim hurting. With Alfred and the older boys’ stares following him, he left the lounge shortly after Tim did, trailing the boy up to the room he had been given once he was deemed well enough to permanently leave the infirmary. He knocked on the door in warning before opening it and peeking inside.

It took a second for Bruce to spot Tim in the large room, curled up tightly under the blankets on his bed so that only his hair and eyes were visible. Bruce just barely caught the vaguely pained wrinkle on the boy’s eyebrows before Tim ducked down fully under the covers.  _ Damn it, it  _ was  _ that bad. _

Bruce crossed the room, keeping his footsteps audible as he moved to sit on the bed next to the lump under the covers, leaning carefully against the headboard. Tim shifted a bit as the bed did, but didn’t move to emerge. Bruce sighed.

“Why won’t you shift, Tim? At least when you’re alone, if you’re scared of us. It hurts us that you’re hurting yourself like this, kiddo. It’s not healthy to force yourself to resist your dragon form like this.”

He didn’t expect any sort of verbal response, of course. Which is why Bruce was extremely surprised by the scratchy, quiet voice.

“Vermin,” the voice said, and it was an unexpected enough occurrence that Bruce didn’t fully process what had happened, responding automatically.

“What?”

“Vermin. Non-human Creature trying to act like something I’m not.” A slight movement under the covers, then, “Have to try to be proper, if I want anyone to like me. No fire, no shift. Not unless they order me to. Whenever I tried, when the pull got too strong, it always  _ hurt _ . This pain is better than that pain.”

Bruce was incredibly glad that Tim couldn’t see his face right now, because he couldn’t possibly have blocked all of the anger that flashed through him at that moment. How  _ dare _ someone hurt a child, any child, this badly? He was furious that it had happened right under his nose, and he hurt for this child who he was starting to truly see as a son, right alongside Dick and Jason. He had to help guide him, somehow.

“You’re  _ not _ vermin, Tim,” he said fiercely, “and you’re certainly not lesser just because you aren’t human.  _ They _ were the ones acting less than human when they chose to treat you that way. You shouldn’t have to hide yourself to try and fit in. Being yourself shouldn’t hurt. Everyone in this castle loves you for you, not for how well you can obey. It hurt when you tried to shift before because they were cruel people who just wanted to control you. That won’t happen here. We all just want you to be happy and healthy, and you can’t do that while trying to supress half of yourself. It’s  _ safe _ here, sweetheart. You just have to trust us a bit so we can show you. We’ll work on it together, okay?”

The sound that was distinctly a child crying that followed did nothing to help ease Bruce’s concerns about not being able to see Tim’s expressions as they talked (actually talked!) through it. He couldn’t tell if the tears were of fear or stress or pain or relief.

“Timmy?” he tried prompting, needing some indication of where to go next.

“Promise?” the small voice finally asked, and Bruce was relieved by the faint hope there.

“Yeah, kiddo. I promise.”

There was another pause, and then suddenly the blankets were exploding upwards, and a small, warm form slammed heavily against Bruce’s chest. The King looked down expecting to see a pale, dark haired child, only to be met with black and red scales. Tim had shifted, and his tiny, practically kitten-sized, dragon form with it’s brilliant blue eyes and overly large wings was nervously blinking up at him from Bruce’s lap. The man smiled back warmly, relief and approval at the choice evident.

“Hello, Tim. Thank you for trusting me.”

Bruce carefully shifted on the bed, kicking off his shoes and scooting to lie down fully on the soft mattress. Tim jumped off and watched somewhat anxiously as Bruce readjusted himself, but crept back over when Bruce patted next to him and smiled. Soon enough, he had a small, very warm bundle of red and black scales curled up between one of his arms and his side. 

The little dragon was deeply asleep enough that he didn’t even stir when Alfred poked his head in an hour or so later. The older man smiled warmly once he caught sight of the two of them. He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, checking that everything was alright. Bruce just nodded assuringly and settled in for the night. He was comfortable enough where he was.

Bruce did stay awake for a time after, marveling at the trust of the too-hurt child passed out at his side. But the comfortable warmth at his side and in his heart was eventually enough to draw him towards sleep, dozing off where he lay, still dressed in his day clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww baby dragon cuddles. I like to think that for the next year or so as Tim grows more comfortable with being a dragon, he spends a fair bit of time curled up around the chosen family member's shoulders or on their laps. It will get a bit harder once he hits a proper growth spurt, but he's never going to be that big with, ya know, the childhood neglect and stuff, so he's still allowed inside. Everyone likes to argue about who gets to have sleepovers with him in the winter since he's like a little, scaled furnace in dragon form :)
> 
> Anyways, I've got at least two more posts for October, maybe three if I can manage to find the time this week to write it. We shall see. Next one should go up on the 27th!

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have noticed, this one has a chapter 2, which will post on the 24th! Until then *waves*.


End file.
